Fall of Vektan Empire (MT/PMT IC)

[Vektan Empire]

OOC/Signup: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=437612

MAP: https://imgur.com/ZhMJ8yf (let me know in the OOC if the map needs editing more!) (updated 18.3.18)

IC

The war had been hard but the "peace" was even harder. The Emperor had returned to the throne and begun to use the money and power coming in to put forward his ideas once more. The Rich continued to have gene therapy to make it so they could breath the air of Vekta whilst the poor continued to be saddled with the mask. War was coming again but now it wouldn't be directed outside of the Empire but inside it. Vektan would fight Vektan and Peacekeeper alike, no difference would be made between the enemies of the People. Or at least that is what is claimed by the young and inexperienced leaders of the newly formed Resistance movement.

Vekta City

The two cars moved down the streets towards the checkpoint ahead. It had been six months since the coalitions victory and the country was about to explode into violence once more. The cars headed down the street in fly going slow to avoid suspicion as the foriegn soldiers waved at them to slow down. Suddenly the lead car gunned it. Bullets ripped into the vehicle as it crashed into the checkpoint and exploded the second car stopped and four men jumped out charging the remains of the checkpoint, guns on full auto . Bullets filled the air as the men charged but soon they were all dropped their masked faces falling to the ground as bullets tore through them.

[Palmyrion]

16/MAR/2018 2340 HRS
SGT PORTILLO NJ
BLACK PANTHER LOUNGE, THE
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA

The song playing at The Black Panther Lounge, courtesy of PAREF-Vekta (Imago - Sundo (Moira Dela Torre cover))

OOC: Get ready for military-cultural imperialism here.

"Kay tagal kong sinusuyod ang buong mundo..." went a singer, one somehow clad in Palmyrian Royal Army uniform, as she lovingly sang to a distant, though nonexistent, lover, in a nondescript bar in the Transitional Protectorate. The Greater Commonwealth Law of 2018 had passed third reading by the Royal Council and was now up for approval or veto by the Lakán, and this was perhaps quite the uproar among the quickly-subdued Vektans now living in the Transitional Protectorate. Their culture was now getting swamped with the flood Palmyrian cultural imports, both physical and non-physical, brought about by the Palmyrian Royal Expeditionary Force to Vekta - soldiers could be seen hanging around Vektan bars, making easy work of open mic sessions with heartfully touching Palmyrian songs and apparently sentimental, heart-wrenching statements pulled fresh from the depths of their hearts (hence the term 'hugot'). The soldiers weren't kind enough to translate their songs to the local language, but at least the hugot lines were translated to the local language by a few too many good Samaritans.

"Sir, baka may magugustohan ka rito sir." (You may like someone here) one of the soldiers under Sgt. Portillo's command jokingly said in jest as he noticed a Vektan woman looking at their commander. Sgt. Nathaniel John Portillo - or "Nej" as he is known - may have had a liking to women, but he somehow just can't see them with a tinge of sexual feelings. "Tanga. Alam mo naman ako, walang mararamdamang pagnanasa. Asexual kasi ako eh." (Dumbass. You know me, I can't feel any lust. I'm an asexual, that's why.) the Sgt. replied, half-annoyed, as if to express being tired of people making a joke out of him being an asexual.

"Parang gusto ka ng babae diyan oh. Kanina pa ang tingin-tingin niya sa'yo, sir." (Looks like the girl over there likes you. She's been stealing glances at you since a while ago, sir.) the soldier replied jestfully, while taking a sip of beer. At this point, Nej was already feeling uncomfortable with catching the woman glancing at him every now and then; sure, he finds her physically attractive, but not in the way that would make him want to bang her.

"Cut the chatter. Oo, maganda siya, pero hindi yung 'hot' kumbaga na gusto mo na lang kantutin sa loob ng pitong oras na nakita mo siya.'" (Yes, she's pretty, but not the so-called 'hot' like you want to bang them within seven hours of seeing them.) the Sgt. replied, seemingly slightly more annoyed now - but he somehow drowned his annoyance with a sip of beer. The Sgt., though having dated a few too many women back in high school, never had a penchant for flirting. "Mga allosexual... (Allosexuals...)" he muttered beneath his breath, thinking how he'd end up in a squad full of 'allosexuals' as the asexual community saw them. Sure, 'allosexuals' were a minority in Palmyrion, comprising only 10% of the population (the rest are either grey-asexual, demisexual, or asexual), but Nej somehow just ended up being the only asexual in the squad with the rest of the squad being allosexuals. The cheesy song being played by the live band wasn't helping soothe his nerves either.

"Ayan na, ayan na, tumayo na. Halika, 'ihi' muna tayo." (There goes, there goes, she stood up. Come on, let's 'take a piss'.) one of the soldiers whispered to another as they saw the woman stand up and apparently walk towards their table. "Sir, ihi muna kami ha?" ("Were gonna piss, yeah?") the soldiers jestfully said as they left their bar stools - but of course, Nej wasn't a fool to their tricks, seeing that, of the three people that stood up from their chair, one of them was a woman, and he just silently laughed at the thought of a woman going with two other men to the bathroom to take a piss. "Hoy, mga kupal, bumalik kayo rito! Huwag niyo 'kong iwan!" (Hey, you pricks, come back here! Don't leave me!) protested Nej as he was anticipating what would happen next, with the soldiers - two men and a woman - literally rushing for the men's bathroom. At this point, Nej was getting uncomfortable as the woman approached him, walking as if to seduce him - but hey, he had to interact with the locals to get their hearts and minds, eh? He was already anticipating flirting, already at the edge of his seat with his feet ready to leave the moment orders came in from up high.

"All units in transmission range. All units in transmission range. Si Adder 1-2 Actual ito, may hit-and-run tayo sa Checkpoint Delta sa Grid 109556. Any units available to respond, rumesponde kaagad, over." his personal communication system rang out like a miracle from up high - he was already at the edge of his seat as the woman gently placed her drink on the table he was sitting on, with the woman gracefully taking a seat. "Uhh, sorry ma'am, gotta go. See'ya." Nej faked a rushed smile as he hurried off to call his soldiers who were now in the men's bathroom, having pissed for the past minute and a half - suspiciously long, one can say. "Adder 1-3, rendezvous tayo sa labas. Ngayon na. Actual out." he hurriedly spoke to the mouthpiece as he quickly departed his seat and fetched the rest of his squad, who were busy talking and flirting with the locals on their respective tables.

Nej went through the backdoor of the club - and the hallways leading to the backdoor smelled and, for Nej, reeked, of sex - condoms here, lube there, added by a cocktail of sweat that Nej couldn't withstand as his squad rushed down the hallways with lovers seemingly indifferent to the foreign soldiers apparently disturbing their informal orgy. He somehow withstood the stench (which the lovers in the hallway seemed indifferent to) as the squad finally made it to the alley.

"Adder 1-2, Adder 1-3 Actual. Pupunta kami diyan. Out." (We're going there.) Nej said as he pressed the push-to-talk button on his communication system. "Squad, mask up, punta tayo sa Checkpoint Delta. May nangyaring hit-and-run." (We're going to Checkpoint Delta. A hit and run happened.) he said as his squad prepared their rifles for what could be action in the wee hours of dawn, legging it up to the Checkpoint and investigate what happened.

[United States of Kuwait]

3/15/2018
Georgetown, USK
Kuwaiti Office of Foreign Affairs
9:00 P.M

Gavin Toft, Head of Kuwaiti Foreign Affairs, sat in his quiet dim-lit office. The man was having a rough day. With the 26th House Assembly coming up and with the President constantly bombarding him with topics to present during said assembly. He really couldn't wait to get off work, to spend time with his family and friends. Then, the door opened.

"Sir, we have a situation."

Gavin groaned in annoyance. He really didn't have time for this. The 46-year-old turned toward his secretary a frown plastered on his face.

"What is it, Elise? My shift is almost over and-" the woman interrupted him.

"Sir, in Vektan there are reports of attacks coming in."

"And? What do you want me to do about it?" The man stood up to grab his coat. His shift just ended and he was ready to leave. Gavin began to walk out.

"Sir, shouldn't you forward this to President. We could mobilize a force from the Kuwaiti Occupational Zone." Elise said as she held up the documents detailing the events, "The Foreign Aid Act of 2000 goes into effect here and since the President was a key figure in the establishment of the Occupational zone. A Kuwaitian Response is necessary."

The woman followed Gavin down the hall still holding the papers in hand expectantly. Gavin, however, continued walking, "Elise, these type of events happen on a daily basis. There is an attack, people get riled up, Kuwait responds, and things settle back down. Then it happens all over again. So I can assure you, the President has more important things to do." Gavin exits the department leaving Elise alone.

Elise sighed. She was always interested in the affairs of other nations, it's why she works here, but her boss is a bit of an asshole. So despite her boss pretty much implying that the events in the Vektan Empire are unimportant. She walked toward her boss' office which he conveniently was unlocked and sent a letter to the President.

221 Department of Foreign Affairs
Georgetown, USK
March 15, 2018

Jacob Dumpson
President of the United States
117 Mansion Drive
Georgetown, USK

Dear Mr. President:
I am writing to you to inform you of the recent events that have come to my attention. Recently there have been reports of a major attack in the Vektan Empire. While I do understand that you do have the 26th House Assembly coming up I consider this a matter of utmost importance. The Vektan Empire while it isn't as old or as large as our great nation. It is still a nation that needs our attention. Your earlier interference there has influenced the nation beyond what is imagined especially with the establishment of the Kuwaiti Occupational Zone. Therefore, I believe you must maintain your attention there as your future actions may once again affect the nation. The people there are oppressed and suffer through so much especially with toxic air within the main capital. I believe it is our moral duty to help this nation in any way we can. Whether you support the Government or the rebels is your choice but you should do something about. Thank you for listening.

Sincerely,
Secretary of Foreign Affairs
Elise Madison

[Vektan Empire]

bump

[Palmyrion]

17/MAR/2018 0030 HRS
SGT PORTILLO NJ
HELL CITY
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA

The squad jogged their way towards the Checkpoint, their equipment lightly brushing against the wind, making sounds as they shook with the movement of their bearers' bodies. This city was like the other cities in Vekta - a heavily polluted air, with daily episodes of smog that rendered the city covered in what seemed to be endless puffs of thick white cotton when seen from a bird's eye view. It didn't help with their respiratory health either - two weeks into the deployment and entire squads of soldiers have been admitted into the medical bay for respiratory ailments brought about by the intense air pollution in the city. It was only days ago that MOPP Ready was declared, with special permission to wear masks - but by now, respiratory disease among the battalion, if not the entire brigade, and God forbid the entire division, was already in epidemic proportions brought largely by the obnoxious air pollution in the country.

"Amputa, ang hirap huminga!" (Son of a bitch, it's hard to breathe!) one of the soldiers, a support gunner who carried, as part of standard support gunner gear, a MGL.31 (Machine Gun, Light, Type 31) with an underbarrel GP-25, coming with 2 spare 100-round double-drum magazines and 10 spare 40mm HEDP rounds, complained as he chased his breath through his mask, the heavily polluted air, and the weight of his gear.

"Keep going, malapit na tayo diyan!" (We're almost there!) Sgt. Portillo radioed over the squad airwaves, still holding forward his rifle as they jogged in the streets of the city, trying to find their way through yet another smog to get to the checkpoint.

"Hindi ako makakita ni dalawang metro sa harap ko!" (I can't see two meters in front of me!) yet another soldier, a rifleman/designated sharpshooter, complained, as the dust was already beginning to cloud the visor of his gas mask. "Malapit na tayo diyan!" (We're almost there!) Sgt. Portillo replied, as he hid by a street corner and signaled via Morse code using his tactical flashlight.

"Squad, nandito na tayo." (We're here.) Sgt. Portillo said after a few more rounds of exchanging Morse code. At this point, radio reception was poor, and especially in this part of city, an industrial park undergoing reconstruction courtesy of the Palmyrian Royal Army engineers and local Vektan construction companies, where the smog was at its worst - nearly years' worth of pollution at this point had covered the streets, and it was making life hard for everyone in the city.

"Adder 1-2, Adder 1-3 Actual. Kamusta kayo?" Sgt. Portillo asked, laying low his rifle still with hands gripping his rifle tight, ready to aim the rifle and fire in a reflex movement - a reflection of the heightened battle-alertedness of the sergeant, complemented by a still-raging anxiety about the near-flirting incident a while ago in The Black Panther Lounge.

"Adder 1-3 Actual, Adder 1-2 Actual. Dalawang patay, tatlo ang sugatan." (Two dead, three are wounded.) Adder 1-2 Actual replied, looking over the soldiers tending to their wounded compatriots the best way they can beneath and despite all this pollution. It was too risky to tend to their wounds in the open, where polluted air reigned - the wounds might get worse owing to the ridiculously high amounts of toxic particulates in the air that the Preventative Medicine team, dealing mostly with epidemiology in the context of battlespace healthcare, just detected.

Sgt. Portillo can't help but look at a corpse with a few wounds - a headshot wound and some body shots - still oozing fresh with bright crimson blood. Just the gore of the scenery is going to haunt him for ages, and all the more haunting when he actually thinks that he just found out from where a sniper, presumably, shot at the poor soldier. It was from a building by the checkpoint - the building had a shattered window, making it all the more suspicious. Sgt. Portillo immediately conjectured that the sniper fired from that shattered window and killed this poor soldier, who was, according to the gun they dropped, a support gunner. "Mukhang alam ko na kung mula saan siya pinagputokan ng sniper." (Looks like I now know from where they were shot by the sniper.) Sgt. Portillo said, changing his glance between the building and the corpse.

"Ah, yung gusaling yan? Malamang." (Ah, that building? Most likely.) Adder 1-2 Actual replied, slowly swaying his head sideways as if to gesture a partial approval, one laced with doubts. Even Portillo was only half-sure of his guess, but he was sure that it wasn't half-assed - if the body wasn't moved, the y-axis of the entry wound was orthogonal to the direction the dead soldier was laying, and the building which the dead soldier lay away from had a broken window with freshly-shattered glass at the sideway below it, with the window's surroundings laced with bullet holes, then it was right to say that the shooter came from the building, and shot from that specific window.

"Check nga namin. Markahan mo ng laser ang kwarto." (Let us check. Mark the room with a laser) Sgt. Portillo replied, already walking up to the door of the building, ready to enter. "Squad, on me. Pasukin natin yung gusaling ito." (Let's enter this building.) he ordered, with his 2IC and Team Bravo lining up by the doorpost opposite to his. Portillo slowly opened the front door, as if to be careful not to make a noise while opening the door. "Suriin ang lahat ng kwarto." (Check all rooms), Portillo said as he and his squad cautiously scoured the building for any signs of the shooter - and to be cautious enough not to fall into any trap that could have been set up for them.

They cautiously opened doors and spent some time inspecting every room until they found the room from where the shooter presumably fired. The laser went through the hole in the window and onto a corner in the room. There was, strangely, no signs of the shooter - no expended magazines, no spent shells, not even a glancing shot scraping the presumed shooter deep enough to graze their skin and shedding a mere drop of blood. "Adder 1-2 Actual, Adder 1-3 Actual. Walang senyales ng shooter. Walang basyon ng bala o magazine na walang laman. Siguro pinulot niya para walang makakita..." (No sign of the shooter. No bullet casings or empty magazines. They must have picked them up so nobody can see it...) Portillo said, his mind in shock but still collected.

"Roger that. Tapos na ba kayo?" (Are you finished?) Adder 1-2 Actual asked, as he was already getting impatient. "Negative. Pupunta kami sa maintenance room, tingnan namin kung pumasok sila mula sa alkantarilya." (We're headed for the maintenance room, see if they entered through the sewers.) Portillo replied, already starting to feel weary and approaching the borderline of drowsiness. It was already nearly the end of his 36-hour patrol, but if he had to extend his patrol then he might as well just extend it out of necessity. "Squad, punta tayo sa maintenance room. Suriin natin ang alkantarilya." (Let's go to the maintenance room. Let's check the sewers.)

[Andsed]

Dan Jackal was sitting in the HQ for the Andsedian troops in the Vektan Empire when an solider came in with some news.

"The man said uh sir we have reports of an attack occurring in Vekta city by rebels." Dan looked at the man before replying with.

"Huh and I was enjoying the peace ok thank you for the news dismissed." The man nodded his head and left and Dan leaned back in his chair to consider this new development. While the rebels had been causing a bit of a problem he was not expecting an open attack. But putting the thoughts to the side he sent out a couple of squads of their special forces. They were going to investigate the incident.

[Vektan Empire]

Hell City Sewers

The two men climbed down the ladder from the maintenance room as quickly as the could, "Did you leave the tripwire?" One of them asked the other as they reached the bottom of the ladder. The man gave a thumbs up and the two began to run into the maze of tunnels that made up the sewer their pockets jingling with the sound of picked up bullet casings and one holding his arm from where a bullet had grazed him but his Vektan clothing had held the blood in to stop it becoming contaminated in the air. Not that it mattered his lungs were fried as much as the rest of him from years in the factories of Hell and he knew he and his comrade would die sooner than their tainted lungs had destined them for if they didn't get out of the sewers before they got caught. "Here stash the rifle in there we'll come back for it later." The lead man said as he pulled several bricks out of the wall to reveal a small cavity big enough for the rifle to slide into and the second man slid it in carefully. They then put the bricks back making the wall look just like it had before. The two then took off once more into the maze.

Vekta City

The scene at the once checkpoint was messy. The New Vektan Army (NVA) that had been guarding the checkpoint were all dead from the explosion and resultant gunfire the rebels were dead as well leaving a lot for the looters to grab at before the next wave of soldiers arrived. Gun shots filled the air as the NVA soldiers fired into the air to clear the area and their heavy boots falls filled the air as they crunched on the glass of the car. "Careful of secondaries." A lone sergeant warned the other soldiers as they moved near the car to look at its burning wreckage. "Anything left of use?" The Sergeant asked next looking round the scene that had been near picked clean. Masks were gone from the soldiers whose faces now lay bare showing faces that were staring out as if they had seen something miraculous and terrifying. The rebels were the same masks gone their eyes were blank though like they had simply accepted the fate of death. "Sergeant we got a live one here!" Came a cry from a medic who was looking over the body of a NVA soldier who was propped up against the barricade. He was bleeding heavily from a facial wound and his mask was gone, but he was a private his lungs were scorched already. "What happened soldier?" The sergeant asked as he drew level. The young soldier explained everything that had happened and the sergeant nodded understanding before radioing in a call for extraction for the wounded soldier.

[Palmyrion]

17/MAR/2018 0040 HRS
SGT PORTILLO NJ
HELL CITY
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA

This city could have had a better name to it - New Dumangas. It was perhaps a fitting name for a place with an amazing natural port. Hell didn't sound at all any appealing to anyone, not even the Vektans - whoever came up with the name for the city, according to the Governor-General of the Transitional Protectorate, should have been shot dead, quartered, dissolved in acid, and bones and teeth being ground to dust while their liquefied remains were dumped into the sewers. Nevertheless, while the medical bay was already piling up with respiratory disease casualties by the minute, another problem just seemed to arise: a flood of soldiers wounded in all sorts of places on their bodies, the product of increasingly frequent hit-and-run attacks by an unknown rebel force - and this time, as the old saying among the Palmyrian military goes, "the CID is slacking off again". For the Palmyrians, "Hell" was a fitting name for this city...for now.

"Squad, stack up sa pintuan. Kitsune, buksan mo ang pinto." (Stack up by the door. Kitsune, open the door.) Portillo commanded as Kitsune, a squad rifleman/designated sharpshooter, poised himself ready to kick the door down, in a way such that when he kicks the door down he uses the recoil of his feet to spin around and away from the doorway, in case somebody was waiting behind the door to give them an unhealthy dose of lead. However, it was at this moment that Kitsune knew, he fucked up; the moment he kicked down the door was the moment a tripwire was triggered, detonating an explosive that was placed by the door. Two squad members near the door fell back, with Kitsune being thrown back - and amputated.

"Shi-i-i-i-i-i-t!" Kitsune screamed in pain as he saw the results of the explosion: a bloody stump where the lower half of his right leg used to be, for the explosion amputated his right leg. The pain shot up only 15 seconds later, with the pain becoming exponentially excruciating by the second. "Aaaaa-a-a-a-a-a-hhhhggghhhh!!" Kitsune screamed even louder as the pain shot up from his amputated leg to the rest of his body, made worse by the psychological trauma of having your right leg suddenly amputated. Kitsune chased his breath as he screamed in pain, desperate to have it gone, or at least to just not die with severe blood loss.

Portillo knew what to do next; in a reflex action, he looked for Kitsune's femoral pressure point and started pressing the butt of his rifle on the pressure point to at least reduce the bleeding. It helped lessen the bleeding, but it only made Kitsune scream even more in pain as whatever remained of his right leg was being swayed too fast, what with Portillo swinging his legs open to gain access to his femoral pressure point. "Dali, humanap kayo ng pwedeng patungan ng kanyang paa!" (Quick, find something to place his leg upon!) Portillo, already visibly struggling to keep himself awake and collected, screamed an order as he made Kitsune lay flat on the floor and lifted Kitsune's right thigh to raise the wound above heart level - but he just couldn't keep doing that, so he ordered his squad to find something upon which Portillo can prop the wound to raise it above heart level all while he was pressing firmly on the femoral pressure point using the buttstock of his rifle.

They found a few jewelry boxes. Sure, as far as stacking them up can go, it was a hasty treatment, but crude first aid was better than nothing - they stacked up the boxes and laid whatever remained of Kitsune's right leg on the stack of boxes to raise the wound at above heart level. "Adder 1-2, Adder 1-3 Actual, may casualty kami rito! Tumawag kayo ng CASEVAC at bantayin niyo siya rito!" (We have a casualty here! Call CASEVAC and guard him here!) Portillo frantically radioed as he kept the pressure on the wound.

"Roger, punta na kami diyan!" ("We're coming there!") the squad on the other side of the line replied. Within seconds, whatever remained of Adder 1-2 quickly rushed to the scene and secured Kitsune, taking Portillo's place in putting pressure on his femoral pressure point. "Ingat kayo diyan sa ilalim, ha?" (Be careful down there, OK?) one of the soldiers in Adder 1-2 said as the rest of Adder 1-3 descended into the sewers.

Portillo couldn't help but notice faint footprints and shuffled dust marking the direction to which the presumed shooters ran. "Isang tao lang ang magpapailaw. Dumikit kayo sa mga dingding." (Only one person shall light the way. Stick to the walls.) Portillo ordered as he turned on his helmet flashlight and the tactical flashlight on his service rifle and began to follow the faint footprints and the path of shuffled dirt, carefully peeking by corners as he encountered them, careful not to disturb the path the attackers made, while trying to keep noise to a minimum so as to be able to hear footsteps made by the retreating attackers.

'Shit, they're here! Run!', an echo rang through the sewers - apparently, they spotted Portillo's flashlights but apparently never heard of the footsteps. "Nandito sila! Doble oras, doble oras!" (They're here, double time, double time!) Portillo ordered as he brisk walked faster and broke into a fast jog to catch up with the presumed attackers. He was able to catch up to them, but arrived to a Vektan rebel holding a pistol aimed at him - and in a reflex action, Portillo aimed his rifle at the rebel, and fired a 3-round burst.

[Vektan Empire]

Hell City Sewers

The rebel John felt the bullets tear into his stomach and chest as they tore through him he squeezed off a couple of shots with his pistol before falling to the ground of the sewer spalshing in the water. It was then his comrade threw a hand grenade round the corner it rolling through the water towards the enemy. It exploded but did nothing but shake up a lot of water, "Shit." He whispered the remaining rebel then loaded a fresh magazine into his gun and jumped round the corner before the smoke had settled pulling on the trigger of his 9mm submachine gun the gun spitting out rounds with an evil menace as they flew towards the enemy. The lone rebel soon dropped to the ground though from enemy fire.

Hell City above ground

The sound of the explosion in the maintenance room had drawn the nearby occupants to the checkpoint that had been attacked. These were of course all wearing their gas masks. They came out curiously at first moving towards the checkpoint. One man came up with a first aid kit and offered to help speaking simple Vektan to try and get across that he wanted to help the wounded soldiers who were still at the checkpoint. He tried to get across that not all Vektans were rebels.

[Leprach]

Intelligence Bureau HQ
Izberyurt, Leprach

Stuart Cersei parked the car in the West lot and entered the Headquarters building exactly at eight o'clock. When the elevator doors parted on the fifth floor, one of his colleagues who had been waiting for him nudged Stuart back into the elevator and informed that the Director wanted to see him. The doors opened on twelfth floor and he walked down the hall to the office of Brett Corbin, Director-General of LIB. Stuart breezed through the outer office, past the Director's assistant into the main office. He adjusted his tie, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Stuart?", came the crisp voice of the Director.

"Yes, Sir."

"Come in."

Stuart entered into the office and closed the door. He looked at the silver-haired Corbin who was sitting comfortably behind his massive desk with his glasses in one hand and flicking files with other. Corbin was the most respected and feared man in the entire building and probably the entire agency who's known for his clandestine operations. His inner circle peers often refer him as the Master of Deception. But since they are on same team, Stuart respected but did not fear Corbin.

Looking up at Stuart, the Director-General said, "I am sure you are aware of the situation in Vetkan empire. The coalition forces occupied the country after Eagle claw incident." Stuart nodded. "We recently received reports of several attacks by the rebels against the new government and the coalition forces. And Izberyurt requested the Agency to propose a plan to help the rebellion succeed without incriminating the Republic." The Director-General continued, "I don't think I need to remind you that this is top secret...."

[Tundra Terra]

Wensleydale, Tundran War District
Molten Tear Delegation

Burning-Heart wasn't exactly the world's favorite character mostly due to the fact he is a Tundran after all and their genocidal nature in war time doesn't make friends. Wensleydale was under reconstruction in every sense of the word as both buildings and the population were bombed indiscriminantly. The streets were pouring with rain as the factory-tank rolled along the road. Sounds of industry had been revived in Wensleydale as workers toiled to bring steel and meat to the other parts of the Former Vektan Empire.

The streets were clean and crime virtually nonexistent as the citizens collaborated with their new overlords. As such the Tundrans kept a surprisingly loose leash on the populace as attacks against them have repeatedly failed against the superior instincts and weaponry of the Tundrans. However one could see the generosity of Molten Tear Cultists as they brought both spiritual and material aid to the new converts. Burning-Heart personally cared little for them as they were often filled with non-Tundran, but he saw the usefulness they have and contributions that continue on. Food, Security, and Medical care became the standard commodities to every citizen under Heart's and the Cult's care.

Unbeknownst to the new government, another reason unrest is so low is due to the backroom deals in hidden tunnels as fresh weapons find their way to rebel hands in other sectors.

[Sudbrazil]

19/March/2018, 23:00
Sudbrazilian Occupatipn Zone (SOZ), Wall City
Fort Anhanguera

The outskirts of Wall City buzzed with activity like a beehive, as new arrivals poured into the recently set up modular constructions of Fort Anhanguera. Trucks carrying impressive amounts of chemicals and NBC protection gear passed through the two layers of checkpoints, and combat engineers around them set up metal fences, barbed wire as well as HESCO bastions under the cover of perimeter patrols.

From his office window, General Carlos Ferreira Schmidt watched with interest. The previous week had been harsh, with reports of many terrorist attacks from Communist resistance movements in other areas of Vekta. Despite the lack of any activity on the commies' part, a heavy atmosphere of paranoia had settled over the southern Americans. It permeated their clothes, passed through their gas mask filters and skin to weigh down on the troops' minds. Quite sincerely, Ferreira didn't care about Vekta. The country was literally foul: the ecology had been screwed over due to corrupt and immoral corporate practices that tarnished the name of Capitalism, and no one could breathe the air without getting sick. Things only got worse when the reds took over, and invaded one of Sudbrazil's most important trade partners, angering the nation and sparking their intervention.

Now, they had settled up a decent government that would hopefully manage to fix the mess that was Vekta. With a bit of aid, most things were going smoothly until the bloody reds had struck. This was a familiar scenario: it had rotated itself during the cold war and in the early 2000s. Some great power, generally some NATO member, would back a government, and the commies or natives would rebel. Generally it ended in humiliation and withdrawal due to the lack of willpower. But Vekta would not follow the same path.

... or at least Ferreira hoped so.

[Vektan Empire]

The Capital, Vekta City, Imperial Palace

"I want their heads!" Visari roared as loudly as he could. His skin was pale and he didn't wear a mask due to his gene therapy as a child allowing him to breath the toxic air of Vekta. He was still young though early twenties from the look of him and he knew he was only going to continue to age faster if these rebels were not dealt with. "My lord Visari we have no idea of where the rebels are located or who is leading them, we have no way to strike against them." The face of General Radic was covered in his mask, military men often chose to wear the mask to blend with the lower ranks, but it was clear from his eyes that he was nervous. "I do not care General, round up some randomers some of them are bound to be rebels! I want deaths! I want the people to know to fear us, to fear me! I will not sit idly by whilst some commoners try to take my throne!" Visari's voice cut through the air sharply almost making Radic wince at their violence. He resisted the urge though and instead saluted, "Yes My Lord, do you want interrogations first?"
"Do what you want, I just want the people to know to fear me!" With those words said Visari waved Radic away and watched as the General left the office which he called his. He then turned to look at the table behind him, he was waiting on the arrival of chief reconstruction engineers from his government and also Peacekeeping forces to help explain the design of the city before him it showed several hulking structures and other such smaller buildings. He recognised the layout as Vekta City, which had been severely damaged during the invasion, but he had no clue which building design represented what.

Vekta City

The door was kicked in hard and fast and the black clad troopers burst in the sound of shouts filling the air as the men went in. Soon they came out and forced three people to their knees. Radic walked towards them a young staff officer next to him reading off a list of offences on a small datapad he held. "These three are believed to have birthed rebel soldiers sir." The young man said. Radic nodded as he looked at the three women their masks had been knocked off and they now looked up at Radic as they gasped for breath. "Where are you sons?" He asked them looking between them as he spoke. All but one refused to react the third one spat at Radics feet. The General nodded and pulled his pistol from his belt and shot her, "Now do either of you two want to speak?"

Wall City, Market Day

The Vektan Police (VP) stood at the checkpoint entrance to the market square his rifle slung loosely on its sling. He was relaxed Wall had yet to activate as a active rebel area and he knew it was due to the presence of the South Americans. He liked the SA's he preferred them to the Palm's or Andseds or the Tundrans to the north. They seemed to be ready to make a difference and help his country rebuild now all they had to do was crush the rebellion. It was then the sniper fired.

[Tundra Terra]

Tundran War District
Border Skirmish
Any day in the district would have been a pleasant day as the nature parks all seem to have steadily recovered and some even out classing the previous generations of plants as both domestic and Tundran imported plants brought a glimmer if deadly beauty. If you take a book from the local Tundran botanist chances were safe you wouldn't suddenly die of poison or be eaten alive.

A woman treaded the path at night hoping to cut through to reach her home faster, but fate would not have it. Emerging from the bush a man with a knife tackled her and put it to her throat. He intended to both rob and rape her until a hiss came from the shadows. In an instant a raptor as if coming to life from a museum attacked the man with a ravenous hunger. Reacting just barely enough in time the man tossed it away towards the woman before deciding to duck and run. The would be rapist found his head in someones metaled fist as glowing eyes lit up and responded with a club to the leg.

Screaming from the pain of a broken leg and a deep growl, the raptor lost interest in the woman and charged towards the metal blackness as it found both its end and the man's. Without a single word the metal man which turned out to be a Tundran Soldier in the moonlight cut up the raptor and gave the woman some of the meat. Staying in silence she was escorted safely the rest of the way, but as she turned around she noticed there was almost no toxic air throughout the park. She lost her mask in the scuffle, yet the Tundran gave her another and carried the corpse to whatever grim fate it had left. The meat was good that night.

More scuffles could be heard that night as soldiers disappeared from their posts that night on the borders of the District. Technically there wasn't anything like a wall and so patrols from other places often overstepped or got lost. Shadows would emerge as grinning Night Hunters captured them with toxins, nets, arrows, or harpoons. Albeit primitive, one squad of SA's had to be reclaimed with their bones smashed and egos hurt. "You idiots will be back to your quadrant by the morrow. I suggest you eat and let the drones heal your legs. Burning-Heart is already apprised of of the bear traps. Get some sleep and DON'T COME BACK!!!"

[Vektan Empire]

Vektan Rebel controlled areas

The hall was long as the hulking figure walked down it. A man whose face was patrician in nature and also held some sort of beauty to it. He walked through the hall with no mask whilst men around him saluted and some even cheered at his presence as it walked by. The warriors of his own 'legion' bowed quickly to their knees as the man who led the rebellion walked into the great meeting room. There stood his brothers men who had been chosen for their willingness to fight and die by his side and also by the side of their men. Faces were uncovered and covered by masks as he looked round the room. The nine men looked nervously at each other as their leader made his way round the table to his large ornate seat at the round table. "Brothers be seated." He said with a voice that seemed to hold kindness and threat in it all at once. The men sat. He looked round at them once more before he began to speak. "So gentlemen it has been a week since we began our fighting season and I feel that we may need to press up. Shootings, suicide bombings and other small attacks are hardly the things that wars are won by." The Rebel leader smiled at his commanders then who nodded their agreement. "My lord," one man began, "I have heard rumours of weapons being smuggled into the arms of the rebellion. I was wondering if my men will see them soon?" The other leaders around the table groaned.
"Perturabo you already have the lions share of our weapons and are still yet to begin actions against your occupiers. When you have need of the weapons then you shall receive them. Understood?"
"Yes My Lord."
"Now I want a full blown offensive launched soon or at least some sort of major coordinated attack. Are we understood?"
"Yes my lord!" Chorused the Commanders.
"Good then let us begin planning."

[Sudbrazil]

SUDBRAZILIAN OCCUPATION ZONE
WALL, FORT ANHANGUERA, 19/03/2018


Lieutenant Marcos Lacerda adjusted his gas mask and checked if he had enough filters. Turning on his comms, he addressed the rifle platoon behind him for a last check: "Segundo pelotão, aqui fala Lacerda, vocês ouvem me? Verifiquem seus filtros e munições: vamos a pé investigar um tiroteio." (Second platoon, this is Lacerda, do you copy? Check your filters and ammo, we're going on foot to check a shooting.) He then unlocked the large airlock that isolated Fort Anhanguera's pure air from the Vektan atmosphere.

Despite the airlock being absurd overkill, Lacerda welcomed any protection from the foul vapours that haunted Vekta. He had heard stories about earlier occupation forces running out of filters with nasty outcomes to their lungs. Things were so bad that, in an uncharacteristic ecological move, the Sudbrazilian Administration had ordered filters to be placed in factories as well as the pchemical and power plants that had polluted Vekta. They had even planted many trees and vegetation in an effort to filter the atmosphere and waters, but these measures had shown limited results up until now, and many thought that it would take at least five years before the smog would end.

"Madredeus, aqui fala Pantera 2-6, vamos em direção ao ponto de controle, câmbio," said the officer into his radio set, warning base control. (Madredeus, this is Panther 2-6, we are heading towards the checkpoint, over.)

"Entendido Pantera 2-6. Podes chamar um pelotão se o bicho pegar. Desligo" (Roger that Panther 2-6. You can call on another platoon if things turn sour. Out.)

Reassured by this, Lacerda sealed the inside and opened the outer airlock door, then disappeared into the semi-opaque smog with his men, like thirty ghosts in a dream.

[Palmyrion]

17/MAR/2018 0040 HRS
SGT PORTILLO NJ
HELL CITY
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA

Nej was relieved that the firefight was finally over – but he could’ve hoped for better, especially now that he shot them dead and wanted them alive. But what was to be done? Perhaps the bodies may have something that could let them identify the rebel group they were affiliated to, so he ordered, shell-shocked albeit collected, that the bodies be sent back to base, Camp Miag-ao.

”Squad, kunin niyo ang mga katawan. Dalhin natin sila sa Kampo Miag-ao. Dalhin natin sila sa S2, sila’y maghahanap ng anumang may halagang intelihensiya. Ung command na ang bahala sa paglilibing.” (Squad, get the bodies. Let’s take them to Camp Miag-ao. Let’s bring them to S2, they’ll find anything of intelligence value. Command will be in charge of the burial.) Portillo said, eyes wide open, still locked to the bodies, as if in a shell-shocked trance. The squad carefully approached the bodies, rifles aimed at the bodies just in case they rise. As Portillo approached one of the bodies, he kicked aside the gun, and picked up the body carefully just in case it was hiding underneath it a grenade whose pin was pulled. Luckily, there was none, so they picked up the bodies – after properly disarming the bodies – and made their way back to the surface.

Back at the surface, the soldiers were waiting for CASEVAC, with 2 dead bodies, blankets draped over them, and 4 wounded, each of which were being tended to be whatever remained of Adder 1-2 and a Vektan who offered to help them. Kitsune’s cries just became softer – but his vitals weren’t getting any better, as the squad feared that he would die of traumatic blood loss from his suddenly amputated right leg, and the softening of his cries meant that Kitsune may be inching closer and closer to death as he was finding less and less breath to scream of pain.

Timing was of utmost concern, as the longer these wounds were exposed to the obnoxious air, the slimmer their chances of survival became, especially in the case of Kitsune. Not long after, 2 BTR-70PMs, converted into ambulances with ambulance equipment inside and a big red cross painted upon it, rolled in, with the attached medics loading the casualties in, 3 each BTR-70PM Ambulance. The ambulances immediately departed the scene once the casualties were loaded in, and immediately darted to Camp Miag-ao to get the casualties to safety; the dead bodies and anyone whose injuries needed more medical care than what was available in the camp were airlifted out the camp and back into home or onto a hospital ship, with the dead bodies being brought home ASAP.

Portillo and whatever remained of his squad arrived on scene to find that the bodies were gone. ”Kinuha na ba sila ng MEDEVAC?” (Were they already retrieved by MEDEVAC?) he asked to a soldier of the dead and wounded, while still carrying the body of a dead Vektan rebel. ”Opo sir. ”(Yes sir), the soldier replied, still clutching his rifle close to his body.

Portillo nodded in acknowledgement, then pressed the push-to-talk button of his headset to speak. ”Sige. Adder Actual, si Adder 1-3 Actual ito. May napatay kaming mga suspek sa pag-atake ng checkpoint. Nagtatanong, pwede ba silang i-pickup ngayon?” he said, still holding the pistol grip of his rifle. Silence roared through his ears until a response made it through his headset. ”Copy. Ipapick-up lang ang mga bangkay. Darating ang extraction niyo sa loob ng dalawang oras. Adder Actual out.”

Portillo was finally relieved. At the very least, he could be freed from this bulky mask that has already been soggy from 40 hours’ worth of sweat and oil. It was perhaps great that he could go back to the pristine air of Camp Miag-ao, drop tired on his bunk, and listen to a bit of music – if it weren’t for the squishy feeling he had for that woman back in the lounge. 10 minutes into waiting, the same MEDEVAC vehicles came back to pick up the corpses of the two dead suspected Vektan rebels. As usual, protocol: clean the bodies, separate them from their belongings, inform families of their deaths, arrange for a proper funeral and the subsequent burial; as for the intel that can be gained from their valuables, initial action on the rebels could come in the form of JSF teams playing their game: raid, raid, raid, kill, kill, kill, turning the entirety of Vekta into a giant hunting ground for two hunter groups.

---

19/MAR/2018 0730 HRS
GOVGEN DIMASALANG AJ
CAMP MIAG-AO
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA

Camp Miag-ao started off as a minor landing zone pinpointed by a team of Air Traffic Controllers, Cartographers, and Meteorologists from PAREF-Vekta, with improvised airstrips and helipads being the first of the structures in the so-called Camp Miag-ao. It used to be called Point Miag-ao, due to the resemblance of a few local flowers to a flower of the same name back home, indeed one of the few places in Vekta that was ecologically pristine – at least by Vektan standards, as the bunch of flowers were the only things alive in the area back then. Now the flowers have been joined by several flowers like it, adorning the camp’s local plant nursery, which housed as of late nearly 100 tree saplings to be used in the eco-architectural revitalization of the Transitional Protectorate.

CBRN-hardened modular structures were being constructed here and there as the base building went on the double. For every few dozen meters was an air purifier - sure, they were prototypes by small-time upstarts, but these small-time companies found major customers for their products: the Transitional Protectorate’s government and the Palmyrian military. Gov. Gen. Dimasalang was the supervisor and de facto commander of PAREF-Vekta – a characteristic “golden beauty” who was still looking young and sublime in her golden years, but still remaining single. It was, perhaps, because she never experienced any sexual or romantic attraction for any boy or man that went her way, but she was quite sure what the hell love is: caring for a country that couldn’t even care for itself, let alone one that she wasn’t born and raised in.

She looked from her office, perhaps looking quite as rudimentary and Spartan as the offices of her subordinate commanders in PAREF-Vekta, as convoys full of valuable shipments flowed into the base, truck by truck, wheel by wheel. These convoys carried vital CBRN equipment, ranging from modular airlocks to loads of filters for gas masks. MOPP-4, in light of complaints from soldiers regarding skin irritation due to the foul air compounding on the epidemic proportions of respiratory disease among PAREF-Vekta's boots on the ground, was about to be declared within the next hour and Annika herself wasn’t going to be spared from this one as she was bound to meet with the local head of government, local Vektan businessmen, and Palmyrian businessmen (albeit via call from their luxuriously adorned offices back in the Palmyrian Mainland) in Hell City at 9 in the morning.

She went back to her laptop, still reading on the proposals of several Palmyrian and Vektan industrial contractors about how to alleviate the ecological and infrastructure disasters of Vekta under the Transitional Protectorate. Technology transfers from industries regarding clean and green manufacturing practices – emissions control, water quality control, etc.; architecture that married nature and infrastructure in every single facet of its being; ecological revitalization programs involving the rehabilitation of major Vektan ecological landmarks that were devastated by the intense pollution; and, most of all, planned power austerity measures that sought to reduce gas pollution on the long run once Vektan infrastructure was up and running, coupled with stringent water quality assurance methods. She had been on this since 4 in the morning.

[Vektan Empire]

Wall 19/03/2018

The rebel sniper hid in his observation post his spotter next to him looking through a pair of binoculars down at the market below. There was mass panic taking place as the body of the police officer who had been manning the checkpoint fell to the ground blood sprouting from a hole in his neck as he hit the ground his hand went up to his neck and tried to hold it. "Were you aiming there?" The spotter asked. The snipers eyes glinted with a wicked sense of glee that the Spotter recognised as a yes. The two men continued to watch the market whilst in the buildings below men began to move into position around the market their weapons hidden and they too concealed by the smog and the blackened glass of many of the buildings. Whilst the shooters got into position to await the response a lone man walked into the market his jacket buttoned tight across his body. He was unique in that he was heading towards the body of the police officer not away from it. As he drew level he drew a pistol and shot the officer in the chest three times before taking a knife and craving a crude eight pointed star in the mans head and then fled the scene as the sound of boots on the ground filled the air. "All units make ready." Came the steady voice of the rebel section leader Corporal Unde through the hand held radios the men were carrying. The ambush was set now it was waiting to be sprung.

TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA
Rorwich

The town of Rorwich sat in the middle of a large bowl of hills. The hills rose up around the town leaving it sat in the middle of them all. Some houses spread up the slopes of the hill but the majority of the area sat in the bottom of the bowl. This would be its downfall. The rebels of Perturabo, the rebel leader chastised by his brother for not yet taking action, had come to Rorwich they had begun to infiltrate their way into the forests and onto the hilltops around the town. They were ready and awaiting the command to begin the attack on the town, all who were inside the town had been deemed as traitors to the Vektan Nation and People a proclamation making the rounds on the Free Vektan Radio Channels at that very moment. It was as this announcement ended that the barrage began.

[Palmyrion]

19/MAR/2018
RORWICH
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA
SGT PORTILLO NJ

Ah, Rorwich. It was a small town, nestled in a large bowl of hills by the east coast. The town looked a whole lot more pristine than the city of Hell I spent majority of my time being deployed in, with a whole lot cleaner air and more flora and fauna per square meter than Hell had - but we still had to wear full C-Burn gear, which makes it a boner since the pollution from the neighboring cities dumped itself into the smaller towns, albeit not as much; today, however, the town had a nasty spell of smog, and we're having a hard time seeing through all this, Nej thought to himself as he walked down a dusty sidewalk down the town of Rorwich. Today was a nasty spell of smog, and the town's catch of fresh fish was heavily contaminated by the nasty airborne particulates that tainted Rorwich's otherwise relatively pristine air. The CBRN suit that Nej wore didn't make matters better, as just 12 hours into the duty, he was already sweating harder than a man with dengue hemorrhagic fever.

Under the guidance of the Gov. Gen., Rorwich had planted a few tree seedlings fresh from the seedling nursery back in Camp Miag-ao, but they weren't fully grown yet, and the estimate of the pollution being reduced to tolerable levels by 5 years was an overly, if not excessively, optimistic one; the largest sources of emissions in the country were the larger cities, such as Hell, Wall, and the capital itself, Vekta City. Hanging gardens were now a common sight in the newly-rebuilt buildings in the town, and it wasn't uncommon for an air scrubber cum street sign to be posted on every street corner. Even then, the air pollution would take, at a most optimistic estimate, 5 years to eradicate at this rate, but improvements to the Transitional Protectorate's infrastructure were underway - architecture focused on a perfect marriage of eco-friendliness and function for every buildign ranging from apartment blocks to industrial parks. Construction was underway all throughout the Transitional Protectorate, and construction supplies kept coming as fast as they were being consumed.

Portillo thought of listening to a K-Pop Spotify playlist he prepared back at base, as they took a break in a coffee shop in the town, but popping on his earphones and listening to a whole lot of Miss A, SNSD, and EXO would essentially kill off his situational awareness, a compromise he cannot afford to make - especially now. "Adder 1-3, si Hilapad ito, may naririnig akong putok ng kanyon." (Adder 1-3, this is Hilapad, I heard cannon gunfire) Portillo's blissful sip of coffee was disturbed, making him pour almost half the cup into his mouth, burning his tongue and the rest of his mouth - and it made him spit the coffee in a reflex motion. The next thing Portillo saw was the building across collapse as an artillery round struck it from the roof; the rushing debris shattered the windows and overturned the tables closest to the window, throwing Portillo off his seat, and the coffee onto him; it didn't burn much, however, since the CBRN suit's material was thick and insulating enough to prevent the coffee burning him...or at least touching him.

"Dali! Pumasok kayo sa pinakamalapit na gusali! Ngayon na!" Portillo frantically radioed as he rushed for the counter, vaulted over it, and hid underneath it, as the building provided a degree of cover for the troops. "Adder Actual, this is Adder 1-3 Actual, i-patch mo kami kay Cobra!" (Adder Actual, this is Adder 1-3 Actual, patch us through to Cobra!) Portillo radioed again as he struggled to keep himself up as the shells inched closer to the coffee shop. "Adder 1-3 Actual, si Cobra ito, standby for fire mission, over." (Adder 1-3 Actual, this is Cobra, standby for fire mission, over.) the radio crackled back. Portillo knew what to ask of next: counter-battery fire.

"Cobra, Adder 1-3 Actual, i-counterbattery niyo iyan! Ngayon na! Over!" (Cobra, Adder 1-3 Actual, counterbattery that thing! Now! Over!) Portillo frantically radioed. "Roger, kina-counterbattery na namin! Cobra out!" the artillery battery replied.

Elsewhere, 3 platoons of 3 122mm guns each roared to life. Each platoon fired 6 rounds, all of which were to impact simultaneously at or close to the coordinates where counter-battery radar pinpointed the enemy artillery fire to be coming from. Once they fired 2 salvos of 6 rounds, they switched firing places to evade counter-battery fire from the enemy.

[Vektan Empire]

Rorwich

The shells hit the artillery battery hard destroying most of the guns. The few guns that remained fell silent and began to be attached to trucks to be wheeled out of the area. But they had done their job. Rorwich was smoking and now the troops began to move in. Black masks and uniforms adorning their bodies the men of Perturabos rebel forces began the march into town the first houses they hit they torched and kicked the doors in of to kill any of the traitor residents inside. They spare no-one.

[Tundra Terra]

Rorwich,
Hidden Hunter
Normally one wouldn't care about Vektans killing Vektans, but it was the man in the trees job to watch. Currently it seems to be black masked individuals that are causing a ruckus with their amateur storming. Several gun batteries were destroyed despite being smuggled and placed for the rebels on a sleeping garrison...still they might fucked it up but the job got done. Burning-Heart was NOT going to be pleased of the report.

The Hunter dropped from his post into the cover of darkness and descended into the myriad tunnels of the underground. As the watcher approached a corner voices could be heard, "A final gift from old friends for these are modified versions of RPX38 "Scavenger" Riflesmade in the appearance of Vektan design. These babies hit hard, are incredibly accurate, and like their namesake allows you to use any of the local rifle calibers you will find. Their insane reliability and slim profile should allow your men and women to fight where ever you like in this war. Now what price would you offer for these crates?"

After what seemed a few interested faces the smuggler continued, "I am also in possession of some genuine DX12 "Motha Flakka" as these babies should handle all of your explosive entertainment. Tanks, people, walls, or even aircraft you won't care a damn after firing it. For a final taste i can also procure more of our lovely MK14 "Dread Maker" LMGs than the 3 i have now. In all honesty, those things scare me when you see people melting from thermite rounds spewing at 2300 rounds per minutes from a double barreled monster." As he finished it was clear from other shadows that Molten Tear Cultists were guarding the smuggler...it made sense to the watcher as the funds probably is what helps their relief efforts.

A few weapon tests and these weapons could quickly join the front as it rages. The watcher left the two groups to settle on a price and relayed the message on an untraceable or even noticeable frequencies. Back at home however, machines roared with fiery breath, angry hisses mark the darkness, and liquid tanks fill up with sinister liquids.

[Sudbrazil]

SUDBRAZILIAN OCCUPATION ZONE
WALL FAIR, 19/03/2018, 1500 HRS

The old German song whispered by the platoon was complemented by the rustle of their equipment as the thirty men jogged their way towards the site of the attack. The small choir was interrupted as the sound of three gunshots reached their ears, and they immediately halted under the command of Lacerda.

“Parecem tiros de pistola.” (Seems like pistol fire.) commented the platoon commander as he took his binoculars, “Soa bem perto também... acho que os bastardos ainda estão atirando.” (It sounds pretty close too... I think the bastards are still firing.)

Using the optical instrument to reach the far end of the street, he surveyed the scene: one dead or wounded officer lying on the pavement, a few civilians still running away. It reminded him of the 2005 crisis: commie terrs holed up in an urban area. There could be agaia gun behind every window, and paranoia was considered healthy by the veterans of the suburban skirmish.

“Ei, Manuel, poderias criar um corredor de fumaça?” (Hey, Manuel, could you lay a smokescreen?) asked Lacerda to a grenadier. Whilst the soldier popped smoke down the streets, he turned to the rest of his men.

“Ficaremos colados às paredes e avançaremos. Não tirem os olhos das janelas e dos becos. Se a vaca for pro brejo, entrem no prédio mais próximo. Vocês três” - he pointed towards a rifle team - “Vão verificar o tira. Não esqueçam de usar seus óculos térmicos” (We'll hug the walls and advance. Do not take your eyes off the windows and alleys. If SHTF, burst into the nearest building. You three, check the cop. Don't forget your thermal goggles.)

Whilst the smoke filled the street, the platoon quickly put on their ENVGs on in thermal mode. As they advanced taking the safety on their bullpups off, three men broke off to check the cop. Calculating the bullet's trajectory, they marked the window of origin with a frag grenade. Better safe than sorry.

[Vektan Empire]

SUDBRAZILIAN OCCUPATION ZONE
WALL FAIR, 19/03/2018, 1500 HRS

The ambush was set to go off the minute men walked towards the body of the dead policeman. His face was covered in blood that had leaked down from the eight pointed star carved into his forehead and his chest was ripped open by the high calibre pistol rounds that had torn through his vest and innards. The snipers watched from below as the men moved into position and then found themselves not watching as a sudden explosion ripped through the air around them and tore them to shreds. In the seconds after the explosion the rest of the ambush team opened fire their bullets flying down into the street and filling every inch of it with bullet fire. "DIE!" One man shouted as he aimed at a group of SudBrazilian soldiers.

[Palmyrion]

19/MAR/2018
CAMP MIAG-AO
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA
LTC ESTRELLA KM

”Ma’am, kinanyonan ng di-kilalang kalaban ang Rorwich.” (Ma’am, unidentified enemy forces bombarded Rorwich with artillery.) the brigade S3 chief looked back from the operations management table and told LTC Kathyrn Marienne Estrella, CO of the 28th Brigade Battle Group, as she sat on her table, analyzing all the paperwork – missives, memoranda, commands, after action reports - scattered on her desk. This was just going to add another thing to her plate, now that it was full with attacks here and there and the pressure to know who was behind all the attacks – a mysterious rebel group attacked a checkpoint back in Hell City and now bombarded Rorwich with artillery. Estrella immediately inquired of the status quo – whether or not it was being handled.

”Anong status nila?” (What’s their status?) she inquired as she rose from her seat and approached the brigade S3 officer, looking at the officer with a stern pair of eyes. ”Nag-engage na sila gamit ng counterbattery fire.” (They already engaged using counterbattery fire.) the S3 chief replied, still immersed in his business at the planning table. LTC Estrella’s options in further assessment were thus on the table – UAV scan, or a direct line with the on-station units. ”I-verify ang counterbattery strike sa UAV feed, tapos gawan niyo ako ng diretsahang linya sa units sa Rorwich.” (Verify the counterbattery strike on the UAV feed, and make me a direct line to the units in Rorwich.) she sternly ordered, as she walked around a bit to inspect on the entire S3 section doing their business. ”Sandali lang. Mag-rereposition lang ang UAV. Ime-mainscreen lang namin and feed kung handa na, pero gawan ka lang naming ng linya sa Adder company.” (One moment. UAV’s going to reposition. We’ll mainscreen the feed once it’s ready, but we’ll make you a line to Adder company.) the S3 chief replied, afterwards going back to his business – he called the retransmission unit to link up the LTC with the Adder company.

The LTC’s radio soon crackled alive. ”2-8 Bravo Actual, Adder Charlie Actual, send traffic, over.” Adder company’s commander on the other line spoke. Estrella immediately rushed to the table to reply, to inquire of the situation down in Rorwich. ”Adder Charlie Actual, 2-8 Bravo Actual, kamusta na kayo diyan? Anong nangyayari diyan, over?” (Adder Charlie Actual, 2-8 Bravo Actual, how are you down there? What’s happening there, over?) Estrella immediately spoke to inquire of the situation. ”Wala na ang isang platoon. Defensive positions na kami ngayon. May orders ba?” (One platoon is a goner. We’re now in defensive positions. Any orders?) Adder Charlie Actual asked. ”Standby for further orders. Out.” Estrella replied.

”Ma’am, mainscreen!” the S3 chief spoke loudly, as he pointed towards the screen. At a moment’s haste, the LTC ordered them every now and then to switch focus and zoom on the feed. The LTC saw the surviving artillery guns being withdrawn by trucks. The images of smoldering wrecks here and there riddled the feed. Available armament was shown on the feed, and Estrella could use them to attack the withdrawing artillery crews, but she reserved that for later…now that another S3 officer pointed out a mass of enemy forces assaulting Rorwich – the feed zoomed in on a mass of fast-moving humanoid heat signatures. ”Ma’am, may malaking pangkat ng kalaban na umaatake sa Rorwich.” (Ma’am, there’s a large group of enemies attacking Rorwich.) the S3 officer pointed out.

With no hesitation did Estrella immediately inform Adder company of the rushing formation of enemies. ”Adder Charlie Actual, 2-8 Bravo Actual, be advised, may paparating kayong malaking pangkat ng mga kalaban mula sa hilagang kanluran.” (Adder Charlie Actual, 2-8 Bravo Actual, be advised, you have an incoming large mass of enemies from the northwest.) Estrella said, informing the company of an impending battle.

---

19/MAR/2018
RORWICH
TRANSITIONAL PROTECTORATE OF EASTERN VEKTA
SGT PORTILLO NJ

It took nearly a minute before the shelling stopped – but by now, the squad was scattered, and with it the rest of Adder company. Counterbattery fire was apparently able to neutralize the attackers’ artillery, but by now, a good portion of the town was a smoldering mess – it meant construction efforts being undone, and in a rather rude, untimely, and violent manner. Portillo dug himself out of the small pile of debris that was left of the counter he hid behind, and, owing to the dizziness and tinnitus that assaulted his senses, struggled to get himself up; after half a minute, the dizziness and tinnitus faded, and Portillo was able to get back up on his feet. If Palmyrian combat experience was any indicator, then it was half likely that this artillery attack would be followed up with a ground assault, so he ordered his squad, or whatever remained of it, to rendezvous at his position.

Portillo’s left hand instinctively made its way to the left push-to-talk button of his communications headset, and afterwards said “Squad, regroup sa posisyon ko.” (Squad, regroup on my position). The squad knew from an update 5 minutes prior their NCOIC’s position, but the position was much less distinguishable now that it suffered enough damage from the barrage to remove any distinguishable features. Somehow they made it though, as there were nearby buildings that still had distinguishable features on them that helped them triangulate the NCOIC’s position. The squad – or the 6 members that was left of them, since they lost one squad member in Team Alpha, a designated sharpshooter, to a trap that cut his leg off and killed him with severe blood loss, and another squad member in Team Bravo, a grenadier whose RPG was taken by the team leader (and with the team leader serving as Team Bravo’s de facto grenadier) – regrouped inside the mess that used to be the coffee shop.

“Mag-setup kayo ng defensive positions sa gusaling ito, at humintay sa mga karagdagang utos. Kilos!” (Set up defensive positions in this building, and wait for further orders. Move!) Portillo sternly ordered, as he headed up to the second floor with Team Alpha. There they found the owner and his family – husband, wife, and kids, the whole nine yards – huddled by a corner in the master’s bedroom, the husband and wife consoling their children. Portillo and Team Alpha’s grenadier took positions by the master’s bedroom, with the grenadier providing overwatch while Portillo took time to help console the children.

“Dear children, everything will be OK. We got this handled. The attack will soon be over.” Portillo reassuringly said in an attempt to at least calm the kids down. “Lahat ng callsign sa net na ito, si Adder Charlie Actual ito, may paparating tayong malaking pangkat ng mga kalaban mula sa hilagang kanluran. Humanda kayo.” (All callsigns this net, this is Adder Charlie Actual, we have an incoming large formation of enemies from the northwest. Ready yourselves.) his radio blared aloud as he was busy consoling the children, or at least trying to help make the couple’s job easy.

“Squad, punta tayo sa northwest. Sali tayo roon sa bakbakan. Game ba?” (Squad, let’s head northwest. Let’s join the fight. Game?) Portillo asked in a stern and uplifting tone, to which the squad replied a jubilant “Game!” before heading out the building and heading northwest. Portillo said goodbye to the kids before heading downstairs and heading to the northwestern quadrant of the town to join in the fight.

Portillo could already hear the gunfire from here – it went through the thick air, through the thick padding that impeded his hearing, to his psyche; it was a symphony he knew well, if not too well, as it reminded him of the horror of fighting the Ultranationalists: both sides were wealthy in heavy weapons, particularly artillery. Helicopters and Su-25s flew here and there, executing CAS sorties on the attacking waves of infantry that descended like a landslide from the mountains. BTR-70PMs cautiously but surely trudged the roads towards the combat zone to provide ground-based support with the deadly assortment of weaponry: a 30mm autocannon, a 7.62mm coaxial gun, and a Spike-LR. The artillery attack, however, destroyed an entire platoon in the company – Adder 3’s infantry was either dead or wounded, and the only thing left of it was its headquarters section, its vehicles, and a Spike-LR team from the weapons squad.

They embarked on the nearest BTR-70PM they could find that wasn’t filled with a squad, and quickly made their way to the fighting zone. Portillo could hear from the inside the BTR-70PM in which they were riding firing its 30mm autocannon and its 7.62mm coaxial machine gun in quick succession as its crew apparently spotted a group of enemy soldiers.